Wandertale!
by dusty-hiccups
Summary: Wandertale is an alternative to the well-known and beloved RPG where, instead of being trapped underground, the society of monsters are forced into an immense, arid climate. With the threat of drought on the rise Frisk must not only save these desperate people, but do so without losing themselves!


Wandertale

Part 1: To be...

Long ago, two races ruled over Earth: HUMANS and MONSTERS.

One day, war broke out between the two races.

After a long battle the humans were victorious.

They sealed the monsters in a vast desert with a magic spell.

Legends say that those who journey through the dunes never return.

The sea was roaring. The grains of its mass whipped about the landscape as the storm showed almost no sign of stopping. The winds were almost unbearable to the figure out in them. Their eyes were forced shut as they walked around aimlessly for who knows how long. The gritty sea scraped against their skin and left an expression of woe. Their hair was nearly imbedded with sand, the winds showing no sign of ending. But their soul… the essence of themselves laced around their neck in a locket… It refused to allow them to stop there, and thus they themselves wouldn't cease.

They pulled up their scarf to protect their nose and mouth from the harsh storm, a loose and almost frail jacket and hood moving along with it. The sand brushed passed them so thickly, color was muted to the point of misconception. From the outside, they were a dark mass trudging through terrible tempest, suffering in being forced to hear the hissing of the sand pass their ears.

There was more that they could hear, something incoherent. But before they had the opportunity to really listen, the winds hushed themselves, fading away and the sea was calm again.

They kept their eyes shut, appearing to be waiting for something. Soon though, they opened their windows, still burdened by sand and fatigue. The child appeared to be a juvenile bordering the age of 12, maybe 13. With the sandstorm vanished, a brighter view of their attire was made clear. They bore a pair of boots, even still faded with a sun-bleached tan yet sturdy. They almost ambled in their russet cargo knee-pants as they'd just really gotten to walk normally again. Their locket dangled in front of their basic sky blue tee, a wide horizontal stripe of lilac accompanying the refreshing color. Their gray cloak and brown scarf idled, not becoming still entirely. The garments flowed smoothly through the now calm winds. A dry branch in their right hand. A spool of bandages in their left pocket.

The child looked a bit offset from where they were headed and stood in awe at the sight. The Desert. Its dunes stretched across the horizon and its peaks stood in their beauty, being sculpted to what looks like centuries. And even so, unbroken flowing and curving hills existed so pure. Columns of sandstone were erected just before the child, towering just above their heads as they walked forward. These, what appear to be, supporting pillars seemed to be the only thing left from a society that existed before their moment of being there. They stared at them with curiosity and honest pleasure.

A break in the quiet! A voice was heard mere moments after the child had caught glimpse of the area around them.

"Howdy!" The voice cheered resembling what sounded like a creature of fae. The child was confused but soon realized that the voice was coming from a source below them. It was a cactus, not any bigger than a gallon jug. And the face of this plant being its flower. The actual face of this plant had eyes full of wonder. His smile was consistent of content, from cheek to cheek. And it spoke! "I'm Flowey, Flowey the Cactus Flower!", he said. "By golly, you seemed to be a little lost friend. Let little Flowey show you how things work here." He explained, his cheeks getting fuller as his giddy laughter continued almost seamlessly from his lips. They furrowed their brow, tilting their head to the side as an unsettled look was upon their face. "You see that heart around your neck, that's your-" With a step to their left, the juvenile interrupted his speech by walking around him. Flowey continued to talk as the child passed, but their cheery expression soon changed as they ignored him. "W-... hey!" He shouted, turning to face them as they passed. "What do you think you're doing?" Flowey asked, flustered with anger and confusion.

The child looked over his shoulder, waving back at him.

*They said wanderers get lost now and again, but they eventually find their way.

*They said they'd be just fine.

A sense of uncertainty and peril fell over the atmosphere as the plant was almost dead silent at this point. Suddenly, the land behind the child began to shift as the sand caved in only for a coarse and prickly set of vines to begin crawling their way to this innocent youth. A smile grew on this flower's face yet again, reaching even wider than before.

"Listen… Maybe you don't understand." Flowey's voice crooned almost eerily. The vines took to a faster pace, growing closer and closer to the child. Now the face of this plant of ghastly, resounding no sense of compassion or care. His beady eyes pierced through the air as they stared the child, his mouth bearing a glassy set of razor-sharp teeth. "In this world…" The vines dropped into the ground causing the child to jump. They flicked their head back, only to feel the hazardous rumbling of something monstrous below them.

Suddenly, bursting from the ground were two prodigious pillars that soon towered over the young one. They panicked, nearly losing their balance in the sand that was being displaced. They struggled to stand strong as terror caused their knees to become weak. They took hurried steps backwards but to no avail. Their right ankle was snagged on a pair of barbed vines. With every tug they took at the anchor, they winced in pain, feeling the spines dig deeper into their skin. The color of crimson and grain staining the tendrils, maniacal laughter soon ensued. Flowey reverbed an unbearable cackle, his voice carrying across and blurring together with the echoing in his initial chuckling.

They flicked their head up at the two towers, eyes wide with fright. "Now… DIE." Flowey strained through his crooked lips.

The forest green columns soon leaned backwards, the hissing of fibers snapping and twisting emitting from their sides. The thorns vibrated, at it was at this point that all forms of hope or confidence fled from the child's expression. The thorns shot out at a blazing speed, but there was nothing that the child could do, besides shout for help.

A blur in their vision… it was just before the child closed their eyes shut. Metallic clanging shimmered in front of them, and as far as they could tell none of the ammunition that had released didn't connect. The sense of dread was siphoned from the air. The next presence before them made no sound, but emitted an atmosphere filled with less malice. They shuddered, hesitating in interacting with the cold being before them. But there was nothing holding them back from curiosity filling their mind. Nervous and almost shivering, they opened their eyes yet again, surprised by their rescuer.

His head was bleached white. It was… chalky in appearance. But the sun did not shine off of the cranium, implying there wasn't any skin. Their face was void of color, however relaxed in expression. The juvenile breathed softly, focusing on whatever they could conclude from this view alone. But looking over his shoulder, his existence was given meaning. A lone eye socket stared at the child and a source of light reflected off the back of its non-existing retina. The source indeterminable as the sun couldn't possibly be concentrated to such a degree. Nor could it have change to such a brilliant and almost malicious blue. The child gasped when he turned to face them. Rather than another eye socket to receive, the crevasse was covered by a thick linen that stretch from the bottom of his chin to the back of his head. It was askew to the right of being vertical. The mouth was covered by a scarf of a similar material, nearly madded but resonate with the same sandy brown. He bore a cobalt blue puffy jacket, its shoulders an alternative deep sky blue, and its collar a bright yellow. His exposed midsection revealed an aged, almost ashen ribcage, faint and obscured. The channels of bone curved down to his spine and rusty-brown slacks; the pants worn out by the barren land.

During this observation, the child must have missed something as the skeleton was staring at them tilting his head. They had come back to reality, realizing that Flowey had gone and the child had a patient and idle monster gazing at them. He stretched his hand out assist the child, but their position changed suddenly. They jolted backwards in a panic, stepping backwards with their injured foot. A cry of pain followed suit, the child furrowed their brow, and whimpered for a moment. He relaxed the once bare, accepting hand. Perhaps it was the sight of the uncultivated, ghastly figure or the distrust of not hearing a single word coming out of his mouth. But the child knelt, leaning back, and sighed, still keeping his hand out.

In a laid back and almost standoffish tone, he said, "look… i'm the one for jokes. but i'm not kidding when i say you'll lose yourself out here alone." The child collected themselves, staring a bit more calmly. Still kneeling on the ground, they straightened their back and listened further. He smiled under the cloth wrapped about his jaw, asking, "so from one wanderer to another…" He stretched his arm out more confidently, "shake my hand, why don'tcha?" The child gave a soft grin, reaching out to grab the hand of the creature.

But a strange feeling, not of bone but… rubber met across the palm of the child. They were shaken up by the absurd and comical gag they'd fallen for; looking at the child's grasp with the skeleton's. In the middle of the handshake, a whoopie cushion slowly but surely ending the noise of breaking wind. The skeleton chuckled, his frame convulsing in laughter. The child smiled back, delayed but just as strong. They shook their head, crinkling their nose as the skeleton said, "whoopie cushion prank. get's 'em every time." The skeleton leaned in placing a hand to block his words from an invisible audience. "or at least those who know how to take a joke when it's handed to them." He whispered, closing his exposed eye. This succeeded in making the child laugh even more, their shoulders bouncing slightly. It seemed that relief had finally taken hold of the young one. They practically beamed with happiness. Whatever feeling of despair that had drawn its shade was lifted entirely. And taking this, the skeleton introduced himself.

"i'm sans. sans the skeleton."


End file.
